


Mistakes Made While Cursed

by Moorishflower



Series: The Mistakes 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Mistakes 'verse, begun with Mistakes Made While Drunk. Dean is cursed to find dickish behavior attractive, and Gabriel takes the opportunity to make his life more difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistakes Made While Cursed

  
There are a few constant truths in Dean's life, the sort of things that can generally be counted upon to not change or, if they do change, to not change _all that much_. Things like how Dean prefers diner food to any fancy restaurant, but he'll willingly shank a baby lamb if it means he can get his hands on a decent Caesar salad, or how Sam can always be counted upon to have his laptop on his person (or, more recently, his iTouch, which Dean mocks him mercilessly over). Things like the fact that Dad is dead, and Mom is in Heaven. So is Castiel, now (although Gabriel assures him that this will change).

Things like 'Dean Winchester is not attracted to raging douchebags.' Sam might go in for the whole bad girl personality, but Dean's always fallen pretty firmly on the 'slutty, but with a heart of gold' side of the fence. Loose-limbed, double-jointed waitresses from Dallas are his forte, not snarky, bitchy, _douchetastic_ male archangels.

Which makes it really, really weird when, one day, Dean looks up and Gabriel is sitting there with his boots up on the bed and a candy bar in his hand (getting crumbs all the over the place, the fucker), and Dean's suddenly sporting the biggest boner since the dawn of time.

And the fact that they're _bonded_ just means that Gabriel _looks_ at him with that slow, smug fucking grin, and Dean nearly jizzes in his pants. He excuses himself to the bathroom so that he can jerk off in peace, with Sam making awkward "What is wrong with you, Dean" noises and Gabriel just sitting there, looking like an asshole. Hell, give him some Ray-Bans and a popped collar and he could win the King Douchenozzle of the Year award.

"There's lotion underneath the sink," Gabriel calls helpfully after him, and Sam's mild noises of protest become markedly less mild.

Dean scowls, even as he locks the door and starts rummaging under the sink.

~

It doesn't get any better. The next day, Gabriel 'accidentally' spills chocolate sauce all over Dean's waffles (which should only ever be touched by butter and maple syrup, thanks) and he nearly creams his jeans like a fifteen year-old. And then he smiles and nudges Dean's foot under the table, like it's something totally normal, and proceeds to eat Dean's waffles.

All of this _while Sam looks on_, thankfully (and perhaps deliberately) oblivious.

Several hours later, after Gabriel knocks over Sam's salad shaker (he has to bite his cheek to keep from moaning) and turns a man's toupee into a dead bird (he has to lock himself in the nearest bathroom for the second time that day), Dean begins to consider the possibility that something is seriously wrong.

"I think I might be cursed," he tries out on Sam. Sam peers at him through the fringes of his stupid, floppy bangs and blinks owlishly.

"What kind of curse?" he asks; it's a perfectly reasonable question. Dean mumbles a non-answer ("Maybe it's nothing") and then slinks away to the first restaurant he can find that has halfway decent wings and ribs.

~

"You know," Gabriel tries, "maybe you're just attracted to my _wild animal magnetism_. We _are_ bonded, you know." He eyes Dean, up and down, and Dean hunches further over his groin, because he is honestly afraid that if he doesn't somehow shield his crotch with his body he is going to end up punching a hole through the table.

"And besides," he continues. "Is it really so bad? To want me?"

Fuck. He sounds kind of…not offended. Hurt, maybe. And, honestly? Dean can admit when someone is hot. Maybe not supermodel-hot, but Gabriel has this _presence_. A sort of aura of confidence, and that's sexy in and of itself. He's not saying he'd be popping boners around the guy without the help of the curse, but he can definitely recognize and respect what Gabriel has going on for himself.

It suddenly occurs to Dean that this whole thing could be Gabriel's doing. It would be just like Gabriel to curse someone to find dickish behavior attractive.

Except one look at the archangel's expression is enough to change Dean's mind.

He looks _worried_. And smug. And sort of put-out.

"Fine. You're hot," Dean admits, only somewhat grudgingly. "And when you do that thing, when you snap your fingers, that's kind of sexy. Now will you _please_ help me figure out what's wrong?"

"Anything for you, honeymuffin," Gabriel croons, all traces of sympathy and worry erased.

Dean hits his head on the table and hopes that the pain will do something to kill his erection.

~

Sam figures it out, eventually. He acts appropriately mortified, refuses to look Dean in the eye for an hour, and makes high, girlish noises of complaint whenever Dean has to retire to the bathroom (seriously, this is getting ridiculous, he hasn't jerked off this much since he was a teenager). After the third day, though, Sam buys an economy-sized tub of water-based lube and leaves it on Dean's bed, then makes himself scarce for a few hours, obviously expecting Dean to 'consummate his bond,' in Gabriel's words.

Gabriel looks excited about it.

Dean smears the lube all over the insides of Sam's boots in retaliation.

~

"It's getting to the point where I'm sick of jerking off," Dean says mournfully. It's a thing he never actually expected to happen.

"There's a real simple solution for that," Gabriel suggests.

Dean throws the empty tube of lube at his head.

~

"I _hate_ witches," Dean growls. Sam makes a mournful sound of agreement as he looks down at his laptop, which has been quite effectively totaled, due to Dean's quick thinking in using it as a blunt weapon. Sam seems to care more about the computer than his own hide (which Dean doesn't understand – he's got like, five back-up hard drives), but after a moment he looks up and gives Dean a look that says 'I hope you're happy, because I had to give up my only friend so that you won't continue to have inappropriate erections over an archangel.'

"So it's done now? The curse has been broken, you mend your playboy ways and stop hitting on obviously uninterested witches in bars…"

"Hey," Dean says, "don't push your luck."

"Dean, no matter what you think, it isn't really socially acceptable to compliment strangers on their breasts. In _any_ setting."

Dean opens his mouth to provide a rebuttal ("Obviously you've never been in a strip club, Sammy, what the hell were you even doing in college?"), but Gabriel chooses that moment to appear in the witch's living room. The first thing that he does is look around, and then viciously kick over the altar-cum-coffee table, scattering incense and dried herbs and chicken bones everywhere.

The second thing he does is snap his fingers and fix Sam's laptop. Sam makes a noise of almost inconceivable joy, and then snatches his computer from the floor, like he's afraid that Dean will grab it and start bludgeoning people again.

And Dean is suddenly, uncomfortably hard.

"Shit," he says. It's exactly the wrong thing to do – he immediately draws the attention of Gabriel and his brother. Sam looks at him with concern, but at least his gaze doesn't wander south of the border.

Gabriel, on the other hand, immediately hones in on Dean's crotch, like an erection-seeking missile. The light from the setting sun outside glints off his hair, turning it from a dirty blonde to a burnished copper-gold, and Dean's never noticed how _green_ his eyes are. Like, green as new moss or ferns or maybe emeralds. Green like living water.

"Well," Gabriel says. "_This_ is interesting."

"I'm going to go drown myself in tequila," Dean announces, and then picks his way through shattered furniture and broken glass towards the front door.

"I missed something, didn't I," he hears Sam say, and then, quickly, "I don't even want to know. Thanks for, uh, fixing my laptop, Gabriel."

"No problem, kiddo."

Dean grits his teeth, because Gabriel being a dick was bad enough. But now Gabriel is being _nice_, and Dean can _tell_ that it's sincere. He's not sure how – maybe it's the bond or something – but he knows for a fact that Gabriel didn't fix Sam's laptop in order to get into Dean's pants.

He fixed it because he _wanted_ to.

Dean makes a noise that could be considered a 'whimper.'

_Fuck my life,_ he thinks, and climbs into the Impala, readying himself for another long day of sexual repression.


End file.
